Til Death Do Us Part
by mrsProbie
Summary: Bellatrix falls out of favor with the Dark Lord. Her punishment: living without him, the Dark Mark, and her fellow Death Eaters. She finds refuge in Grimmauld Place as she learns to live without the Dark. Rating subject to change. Eventual Harry/Bellatrix, yes. Set at the very beginning of Deathly Hallows.


**Of course, the minute the competition started, my damn laptop screen got messed up. Just got a new one, though! Eek!**

"My Lord?" Bellatrix whispered, eyes wide in shock, hopeful that she had heard him wrong. The Dark Lord, however, displayed nothing but disdain for the woman. "My Lord, I-"

"I care not for your excuses," he said forcefully, waving away her attempts at an explanation. Bellatrix shivered at his tone. The man was always cold, but this was different. It was as though she were no better than a common blood traitor, a Mudblood- and she wasn't, she knew. He was justified in his treatment of her, and if he wanted to kill her, he should, he should make it slow and painful, this was inexcusable- "I see what you believe, what you _feel_, and it is impossible to reconcile with your responsibilities as a loyal Death Eater."

"My Lord, it is nothing, _nothing_- the boy is, the boy-" Her attempts to explain away her behavior were cut off by a sharp _Crucio!_ She fell to the floor, screeching, knowing what gave her Lord pleasure. It only angered him further when his subjects failed to react fully to his punishments. To attempt to display strength in the face of the Lord was to show disrespect, an unwillingness to succumb to his wishes.

"Would you like for me to kill you?" He asked the question without ending the curse, rendering her unable to respond. "Would you?" he taunted, "Would you?" After what seemed like hours of this torture, he lifted the torture. After allowing Bellatrix to catch her breath, he asked again, quietly, dead serious. "Would you like to die, Bellatrix?" He spat her name like a curse.

"Yes," she admitted in a whisper. "Please, my Lord. I would like to die."

"I feel almost sorry for you," the Dark Lord said almost lightly, twirling his wand above him, playing with it as a small child would. "You will not die today."

A quick intake of breath. "My Lord-"

"And," he continued, ignoring her still, "you will not die tomorrow. In fact, you will not die for a very long time. That," he glared directly at her, "is your punishment."

"My Lord, I do not understand." Bellatrix was on her knees now, as though in prayer before her Lord. Although he was a dark, vengeful, unstable lord, she was still faithful- or, at least, she always had been.

"Of course you do not," he replied. Looking disdainfully down at her, seemingly tiny kneeling on the floor so, he continued, "I have placed many spells on you, Bellatrix, disallowing you to die. Do you understand yet?" At her silence, he grew incensed. "Do you understand?" he demanded.

Shaking her head quickly, Bellatrix whispered, "No, my Lord, no, I still do not-"

He didn't really seem to care if she finished her answer. "You will have to live with the knowledge of your betrayal until my death, Bellatrix. Your life cannot end until mine: the day I die- hah!- the day I die, you are free to end your life as you see fit. Your life is tied into my magic, Bellatrix," he said, his voice low as he swooped down onto the floor to speak directly into her ear. "I do not plan on dying. Are you ready to live with your guilt for forever?"

She was too shocked to reply, and for once, he didn't command her to speak. He simply watched her wavering. She didn't notice when he stood, but he was circling her like a vulture creeping in on its prey.

"You are dismissed, Bellatrix." He pulled her up from the floor by her arm and shoved her towards the door. "Once you Apparate from here, you will not be allowed back." When she made no movement to leave, he pushed her again, causing her to stumble. "Leave."

Her mind was in a blur as she was rushed out of the building, and as she turned to Apparate, her mind wasn't on where she was going. It didn't matter, anyway- any Splinch that could have killed her would be immediately fixed by the Dark Lord's magic. She couldn't die. She couldn't kill herself, couldn't be harmed. In any other circumstances, it was a gift.

Now, though, it was a curse. She could never see her Lord, the man she admired beyond all others, again, as long as he lived. A sudden thought struck her, and her right hand flew to her left forearm, tugging the sleeves of her layers up to get a look at the bare skin. She fell to the pavement, crying: her arm was bare. Rubbing the place where her Dark Mark used to be, she huddled herself into a ball as she wept for her future. She had nothing but her Lord- no matter what he thought, that _boy_ was nothing but a pretty little fancy, a silly daydream. She didn't care for him, could never care for him. She regretted ever letting the very image of the boy prance through her mind. He was nothing.

In the middle of her introspection, something rushed past her, spreading a beam of light, and she became aware of her surroundings. Looking around, she realized she was on the side of a Muggle street. It was the middle of the night, and the streetlights above her only dimly lit the road. Even with the near lack of lighting, though, Bellatrix recognized where she was from her youth: this had been the home of her dear aunt Walburga and her uncle Orion, years and years ago.

The only wards on the place were supposed to be against non-Blacks, so, glad that she would at least have a place to live while she decided what to do with herself, she approached the door of Grimmauld Place.

**Strong as United: Shock, Bellatrix Black/Lestrange, Regret**


End file.
